


On the Subject of Pain

by FreshBrains



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Banter, Community: femslash_kink, Established Relationship, F/F, Fisting, POV Jessica Jones, Past Abuse, Trust, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5334638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s like I’m looking in on myself,” Jessica says, breath coming in shallow pants, “and holding my own hand.”</p>
<p>Trish peers down at her from where she’s on her knees between Jessica’s legs. “Is that…good?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Subject of Pain

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Annual Femslash Kink Meme 2015](http://femslash-kink.dreamwidth.org/15813.html) prompt: _Jessica Jones, Jessica/Trish, fisting._
> 
> Abuse tag is for a non-explicit Kilgrave mention. No spoilers.

Jessica can’t remember the last time she’s felt like this. It isn’t _helpless_ , so to speak—she knows what that feels like, and its shit. She just feels strangely detached from her body, but still possessive of it, like she’s looking in on herself and holding her own hand.

“It’s like I’m looking in on myself,” she says, breath coming in shallow pants, “and holding my own hand.”

Trish peers down at her from where she’s on her knees between Jessica’s legs. Well-fucked has always been a good look on her, but tonight that look is mixed with another one of Jessica’s favorites—the intense concentration of a woman doing her best to give another woman an orgasm. “Is that…good?”

“It’s something,” Jessica says dryly, and even though she knows it will hurt, she closes her eyes and clenches down on Trish’s hand. Scratch that—they moved past hands a long time ago. It started with the tips of Trish’s fingers on Jessica’s clit, teasing and soft, her nails short and immaculate. Then came her fingers down to the first knuckle, one finger, then two, then three, all smooth and perfect, all with Trish looking down at her like she was something special.

Now, there’s no hand to be seen, because Trish’s hand is inside Jessica’s body, wrist slick with Jessica, fingers brought together in that perfect, loose formation that rubs and presses on the parts Jessica hasn’t wanted touched in a long, long time.

“Whoa, Jess,” Trish says, eyes widening, but her blown pupils betray how arousing she finds it when Jessica’s cunt tightens around her wrist. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Does it look like I’m in pain?” Sure, it hurts. It’s always hurt a little—especially after Kilgrave. He never did _this_ to her; that wasn’t his brand of torture. But he and sex are inextricably linked now, and there’s always that little alarm bell going off, telling her _this is wrong, you are wrong_. She huffs out a sigh, blowing her bangs off her sweaty forehead. “Okay, maybe it hurts a little.” She’d rather Trish slow down than lie to her. They’re done with lies.

Trish gets that crinkle between her eyebrows that makes it seem like she’s ready to pull her hand out and call it off. But instead, she squeezes her fingers closer together, easing the pressure by only a tiny amount. It’s enough to get Jessica to relax a little, her bowstring-taut body lowering back down onto the soft sheets. “Is it all bad? The pain?”

“No,” Jessica answers honestly. She can feel her body easing into it again—the fullness, the depth, the feeling mixed with the way Trish is biting her lip, the way Trish’s small breasts are bare to the room, her nipples hard with arousal. “You know what they say about pain.”

Trish grins, face flushed. “It never hurt anybody?” She turns her hand, just a _little_ , so her wrist grinds against Jessica’s swollen clit, and Jessica shudders into the feeling, back arching off the bed.

“Smart-ass,” Jessica says, but it comes out too high, her breath hitched. “They say pain can be useful.” She spreads her legs impossibly wider, relishing in the ache in her hips. “Sometimes.”

“Is this one of those times?” Trish shuffles closer to Jessica so their bodies can touch at different points—Trish’s breast against Jessica’s knee, her soft hips grazing the inside of Jessica’s thighs. She keeps her hand still, letting Jessica soak in the sensation of being so full she can barely move without her whole body reacting.

“I think so,” Jessica says. “Fuck me and I’ll get back to you on it.”

“God,” Trish bites, huffing out half a laugh. She grabs their tube of lubricant and spreads more on her wrist before she pulls her hand out a few inches and thrusting it back in.

Jessica gasps, almost _squeals_. If it was anyone else, she would be embarrassed, but it doesn’t matter with Trish. Trish just smiles, hand moving quicker, fucking Jessica at a steady pace.

“We need to do this more often,” Jessica says, writhing on the bed. Her orgasm builds deep in her stomach, that tense pooling of heat and light that makes her feel like everything isn’t awful.

“I could live with that,” Trish says. She adds more lube, letting it drip onto the sheets. Jessica knows she doesn’t mind the mess. She doesn’t mind, because it means hurting Jessica less.

And Jessica supposes she can live with _that_.


End file.
